It is a year after the ordeal with Edison Trent and the mysteries of the Nomads. Tensions in the Sirius Sector have flared up, and Jack Schwartz, a Liberty Navy pilot, is caught up in the biggest tragedy since the Hundred Years War. (FREELANCER)

The onboard CPU hummed silently as only a dim light seeped into the
cockpit. I looked around and deactivated my active scanner, keeping the
passive operational. I peered deep into space, trying to pinpoint my
position. I was about one hundred thousand kilometers from New Berlin, but
the planet was in full view. The ship's computer spoke in a garbled
language, revealing to me that the ship's hull was torn to pieces. Fuel
spilled out into space, and a tangled mass of metal and wires was all that
was left of my starboard wing. Groaning, I sat back in my chair, pondering
on what I was to do next.

A garbled voice broke over my com channel. "This is RSC Spielbanken.
We have picked you up on our scanners as a hostile. Deactivate all engines
and power down your weapons. Prepare to be boarded." An old Train was
making its way through space towards me. I would have loved to completely
tear it apart, but my generator was shot, and there was nothing I could do.
The Train fed a thick entrance passageway to my ship, and two burly men
smashed open the cockpit door. I didn't even bother to reach for my gun,
and was soon hauled into the ship.

It was very old and outdated. Rusting here, ruptured pipes there, the
works. I was led down the dank halls to an old iron cell and thrown against
the metal wall.

The two men laughed at me. "You should watch where you are flying,
Freiheitbastard." They must have thought I was on an undercover mission.
"We can smell a Navy pilot a mile away!"

"Must have taken you a while, Dicker Mann." I laughed, and the hairy
one spat at me. With that, he slammed the cage shut and stormed off, hotly
pursued by his comrade. I leaned back in the cell and tried to think of a
way out of my prison. This holding cell was obviously quickly constructed
as a way of holding petty criminals, but I had studied these on West Point.
I would remember how to escape shortly, but first, I had to see if I could
contact any other Liberty pilots.

After hearing their voices trail off, I opened my communicator on my
timepiece and tried to radio my brethren. I tuned it to a private channel
and called out into space. "This is Schwartz to any Liberty personnel, do
you copy, over?" I waited patiently, but no one responded. I repeated.
Still no response. Moving over to the restricting bars, I began to study
them. Easy joint-lock configuration, all it needed was some leverage. I
fumbled in my jacket for a wrench that I normally kept for around-the-ship
means and picked it out. Jamming it between the rivets that held the rusty
cot to the wall, I "wrenched" it out. The corroded rivet popped out, and I
immediately repeated with the other one. The heavy bed landed with a nice,
juicy clang. Hesitating, I waited for my captors to burst in and shoot me
on sight. Thankfully, the circular door at the end of the hallway remained
closed.

My dark hair was matted to my forehead with sweat and I positioned the
frame against the iron bars. I jerked downward on the other side and one of
the bars snapped completely in half! I was amazed how an old ship like this
would still be working for the Rheinland Shipping Company.

Slipping through the gap in the bars, I proceeded to make my way down the
hallway. I peered through the small window in the oval door and looked
around. No cameras to be seen, maybe a few spotlights, but that was it. The
guards were off doing something else. I silently walked down the
passageways until I heard chatter and ruckus coming through the crew's
cabin. It seemed the guards were having a bit of "fun" with themselves. I
glanced through the window, and sure enough, the two burly men were sitting
adjacent to each other with their backs towards me. They were loudly
laughing, and I noticed several bottles of Sidewinder Fang next to their
legs. Drunk.

I had to get out of this place, and to get out was through them. The pilot
was off in the bridge so I had to act now. I searched around for something
to use and somehow found a silenced pistol along with a small canister of
carbon monoxide gas, used as propellant for a few old-age infantry rail
guns. I wandered back over to the quarters and sure enough, both men were
still out of it, drinking alcohol and playing cards. I raised my pistol and
shot a bullet clean through the glass. It was such a fine blow that little
excess material fell, and even if more did, it was like they had enough
mental power left to pay attention. I chipped open the nozzle of the
monoxide gas with my wrench and slowly hammered it into the tiny hole. All
that was left was to wait. In five minutes, the laughter had stopped. Two
bodies lay slumped over one another. The deed was done, now to take this
rig and get back to where I came from, and to find out what the hell the
Rheinlanders were up to.

I sneaked to the back of the Train where the cargo containers were,
searching for something of use for when I would attack the two pilots. The
heavy steel door creaked open and I fumbled for the light switch, which I
found, and clicked on. One by one the overhead floodlights flickered on,
and my jaw dropped. There were three enormous objects, brilliantly
constructed and shimmering in the bright glow of the lights. These were
sleek silvery objects, jagged at one end, and large cylinder shaped
connectors at the other. It was truly a sight to behold. I strolled around
it, marveling at its beauty, when I turned to the other side of the
contraption and saw it. The emblem that was swathed across the brilliant
silver metal was one that I had not known of before. It was different.
Almost alien. There was a gnarled wooden staff curled around a burning
star, its rays shot out across the entire emblem. I was stunned. Had
Rheinland been receiving help from another source?

The strange object was cold to the touch, and I pressed my palm to the
alien alloy. It suddenly became very warm and I could feel a buzz inside
the object. I ran my hand across the side until my fingertips bumped
against a small latch. I poked the hatch and it slid open. A few controls
were visible, blinking silently in the light. There was a small piece of
golden text underneath a metal switch. It seemed to be a registration code
of some sort.

X-J89 Mk I Flood Jump Generator

I was bemused. I had never heard of a Flood Generator before, and why were
they being carried in a Rheinland Train? I shook my head, of course! This
is what the Rheinland was using in those new battlecruisers they had
deployed to attack the other Houses. Stepping back, I thought for a moment.
If I could take over this Train, I would be able to learn more about this
new operation, and who they were getting these Generators from. The tiny
hatch slid shut and the machine burped and sputtered for a moment, then
died. The pistol I held in my hands suddenly grew very warm, and I silently
walked out of the cargo bay.

The bridge was just ahead, and I cocked the hammer of my weapon and leaned
to the side of the metal door. The ship hummed under my feet. Sweat
trickled down my right temple. Funny how I remember it so clearly. The door
quickly opened. The barrel to the back of his head. The shot. The blood
covering the cockpit. The job was done, and I disposed of the body via the
airlock. I did the same with the two fat men in the cabin. Each one I
vaporized with a single turret blast. Gruesome work, but it was for my own
good.

The controls were still warm as I wrapped my hands around the controls.
Checking the NavMap, I slowly gunned the engines. Putting on the strange
headset communicator, I unbuttoned my collar and took off my Liberty
leather jacket. If I was to get into the installation that lay ahead of me,
the jacket would put me in danger.

I did not know what I was getting myself into. If I knew what would have
happened, yeah, I probably would have done the same exact thing.

~~~ Next Chapter: Nova

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